On 11 July 2026, I crossed the finish line of Race to the Stones: a 100km ultramarathon.
It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.
With temperatures reaching over 30°C, my race plan quickly became less about pace and more about simply making it to the finish line. Blisters, lost toenails, leg cramps and heat exhaustion all became part of the day, but none of them were enough to stop me. Every painful step was worth it.
Running 100 kilometres was something I once thought would be impossible. I spent years believing that recovery was something other people achieved, not me. My eating disorder took away my independence, my university education, my love of sport and, at times, any belief that I had a future beyond survival.
When I was first diagnosed, I assumed getting help would simply make me better. Instead, I found myself caught in a system where I was often too physically unwell to access the psychological treatment I desperately needed. Over the following years, I experienced repeated hospital admissions, long periods away from home and treatment that, although delivered by incredibly caring professionals, often came far too late.
Throughout all of that, Beat became a source of guidance and hope.
Their Helpline helped me understand how to access support and how to tell the people closest to me what I had been hiding for so long. Their campaigning continues to push for earlier intervention, better community services and improved education for healthcare professionals; changes that could make an enormous difference to people facing eating disorders today.
That is why I chose to run for Beat.
Sport had always been a huge part of my life, so being told I couldn't run for almost three years was incredibly difficult. But when I was finally well enough to return, my relationship with exercise had completely changed.
I wasn't running to lose weight or seek validation anymore. I was running because I loved it. Because my body was strong. Because running had become something that gave me freedom rather than something driven by fear.
Training for an ultramarathon brought its own challenges. Ensuring I was consistently fuelling my body with foods I had once been terrified of eating and allowing my body to adapt and become stronger. Every long run became another reminder that my body deserved care, nourishment and respect, not punishment.
Looking back now, I realise the resilience it took to finish the ultramarathon wasn't mine alone.
Every step I took during those 100 kilometres reflected the people who had carried me through recovery. During the depths of my eating disorder, my family and friends travelled across the country to visit me in hospitals when I felt hopeless and completely lost. They kept believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself. They reminded me, over and over again, that there was life beyond my eating disorder, even when I couldn't see it.
The race felt remarkably similar.
My family and friends stood at checkpoints with water, electrolytes and food, making sure I had everything I needed to keep going. At times they even ran or hobbled alongside me. Just as they had done throughout my recovery, they refused to let me give up.
Crossing the finish line wasn't an individual achievement. It belonged to every single person who helped me reach it.
Just two days after completing the ultramarathon, I graduated from university, although hobbling across the stage was probably harder than the race itself! There was a time when graduating felt impossible. I remember lying in a hospital bed, being told I would have to defer my studies, uncertain whether I'd ever finish my degree at all.
To complete an ultramarathon and graduate in the same week felt surreal. They weren't just milestones; they were reminders of how far I’ve come.
Recovery hasn't meant that every difficult thought has disappeared. There are still hard days. But recovery has taught me that thoughts don't have to become actions. It has taught me that I can choose the life I want to live rather than the one my eating disorder wanted for me.
Sharing my story to fundraise was one of the hardest parts of the challenge. For a long time I carried enormous shame about my illness. Many of the kind people who donated had no idea I had experienced an eating disorder.
But eating disorders thrive in secrecy.
Every conversation we have, every story we share and every person who learns more about eating disorders helps to challenge the stigma surrounding them. If being honest about my own experiences helps even one person ask for help sooner, then sharing my story has been worthwhile.
To anyone who is struggling with an eating disorder, or who is supporting someone who is, please don't lose hope.
Recovery rarely happens because of one life-changing moment. I spent a long time waiting for the day I'd suddenly want to get better. That day never came. Instead, recovery came from making one small choice after another that went against my eating disorder. One meal. One conversation. One appointment. One small change at a time.
Those choices didn't feel extraordinary in the moment, but together they slowly built a life I never thought I'd have.
One where I could return to running. One where I could graduate. A life where I could run 100km to raise money for a charity that helped me when I needed it most.
Crossing the finish line at Race to the Stones was one of the most emotional moments of my life.
Not because I'd completed an ultramarathon, but because it represented everything that had come before it. It represented every hospital admission, every setback, every person who stood beside me, every healthcare professional who cared for me, every member of my family and every friend who refused to stop believing in me.
Most of all, it represented hope.
Hope that recovery is possible.
Hope that living life on your own terms is better than living life controlled by an eating disorder.
Hope that everyone can achieve things they once believed were impossible.
A few years ago, my goal was simply to survive. This year, I ran 100 kilometres. That’s what hope, support and recovery made possible.
Want to take part in an challenge like Hatty's? Head here: Ultra Challenges
Donate today to help us provide more vital support to people who are affected by eating disorders.